


Trust Me

by nuclearturtle



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Dissociation, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post Chernobyl AU, Sharing a Bed, Whump, boris's pov, lots of comfort, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearturtle/pseuds/nuclearturtle
Summary: One day, Boris finds that he is too late to protect Valery from the cruel hands of the KGB. But he will do everything he can to take care of his Valera.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> No disrespect meant to the real people affected by the Chernobyl tragedy. Characters are based solely on the fictional tv show.

Valery creaked gingerly through his apartment. Boris watched him carefully. Each movement was minimized and stilted. Boris wasn’t sure if he should draw attention to it. 

Both of them were sicker and slower since coming back from Chernobyl. Going up and down stairs winded Boris more than it ever had before that hell hole. His joints  _ ached _ and his appetite was lacking more often than not. Warmth seemed to leech right out of him and the cold would seep in and hold onto his bones. Exhaustion was a very familiar friend. Both of them were dying and neither enjoyed stating the obvious. 

But seeing Valery so pale, the stress in his face so evident, pained Boris like a knife to the chest. His eyes were tired and distant, disturbingly similar to back at Chernobyl. But he kept zoning out and would stare blankly off into space in a way that never happened when they were trying to save this God forsaken country. His cigarette either hanging limply from his mouth or fingers, forgotten. So, he watched him like a hawk. Ready to step in and order him to sit down. 

They couldn’t meet daily, but Boris tried to visit him as much as he could get away with. It had been a week since he had seen Valery last, and so he came bearing gifts. He brought a brown paper grocery bag filled with vodka, Valery’s favorite cigarettes, some fresh vegetables, sausages, tinned tuna for both Valery and his cat, and some take out chicken stew from a restaurant right next to the Kremlin as a treat. The stew had a rich bone broth with thick chunks of chicken, potatoes, carrots, onions, and even dumplings. Perfect for two old men with old worn out bodies. The glimmer of pleasure in Valery’s tired eyes brought a sense of warmth in Boris’s chest that had long been absent.

“Ah, thank you Boris. You have no idea how long it has been since I have seen such a wonderful meal,” Valery told him softly, “But hold on and let me get some bowls and spoons.”

Boris watched as Valery shuffled in his too big button down and khaki pants from his living room, overstocked with bookshelves and scientific journals, to his pitifully small kitchen with one small window that never seemed to be able to let in light or fresh air. Charkov made sure that Valery would never experience any special privileges and, in fact, made his life as difficult as possible after the trial. That this brave stubborn scientist sacrificed his health, both emotionally and physically, for the Soviet Union meant nothing to the KGB or the Kremlin really. A fact that still raged within Boris.

But when Valery opened his cabinet and lifted his arms to grab the bowls, he immediately dropped his arms and hissed in pain. One cradled his ribs as the other laid limp on the countertop, his forehead resting against the dull white wood cabinet as he worked to breath through the pain.

Like a shot, Boris was out of his chair and rushing over.  _ That’s not the effects of radiation, _ he thought, his brows furrowed in concern. He entered Valery’s space and slowly reached his hand to touch his shoulder and leaned down to try to catch eye, but Valery flinched violently back away from his hand with a sharp, “ _ No _ !” He was hunched forward with his shoulders clenched tightly by his ears, his chin nearly touching his chest, and his face locked in a pale stricken spasm of a grimace. His arms wrapped protectively around his chest and ribs, his cigarette slowly dropping ash from his hand onto the floor like morbid snow.

Boris’s veins felt like they had been replaced with icy water. In all the time that Boris had known Valery, he may have sometimes reacted awkwardly, even stiffly, to physical touch although once they had become friends he seemed almost starving for contact. But he had never shied away like this, as if he was expecting violence. Boris didn’t want to acknowledge the fear that began to flutter in his chest like a small desperate bird.

“Valera,” He murmured slowly, his hands in front of him palms up but no longer reached for his friend, “What is wrong? Are you ill?” He still leaned downward and tilted, trying desperately to catch a look of his face. Valery stood there for a long moment clenched like a twisted scarecrow, as quick pained disturbingly wheezed breaths shallowly rushed out of him. At this point, he was mostly turned away from Boris, so that he could only see the side of his face.

“Please.” He begged in a whisper. Boris’s heart was racing and he was full of adrenaline but had no idea what to do with it. Valery wasn’t speaking, too locked in whatever turmoil he was going through, and Boris didn’t know how to fix this. He truly couldn’t remember when he was last in a situation where he couldn’t find some sort of solution for a problem. He  _ hated _ this with every inch of his being. 

Slowly the tightness in his face left and Valery opened his eyes pointed directly towards the floor. His hand robotically brought his cigarette to his mouth, shaking so bad that ash continued to fall, and took a deep drag seemingly without much conscious thought. 

Throughout their time at Chernobyl, Boris had seen his Valera in many stages of despair. It was hardly a surprise, they were living in hell, making choices that could only be thought possible in hell, and having to carry the burden of those choices. The guilt and pain weighed on Valery like the planet on Atlas’s shoulders, turning him into much like a live electrical wire. The weight and his anxiety forced Valery to constantly remain in motion, always working endless to find new solutions and new ways to try to reduce the harm for Pripyat, the soldiers, everyone trying to fix that damned reactor. He hardly slept in all those months, could hardly stand still, his leg constantly bouncing even when he sat. Boris found his relentless drive to care for others to be one of his more admirable qualities.

So to see his Valery so tense, so rigidly still, was deeply disconcerting to say the least. Boris paused to take a mental step back. To catalogue Valery’s actions from today and look at them in a new light.

“You are hurt.” It was spoken softly, but it wasn’t a question. Valery’s eyes flicked toward him for the barest of a second before going back to the floor. Boris tried again and slowly reached out and pressed his pointer and ring fingers onto the bottom of his elbow. He could see Valery’s bicep twitch but this time he allowed the touch.  _ Please, Please! Valera let me in! Please tell me what has happened. I can’t help if I don’t know what is going on, _ Boris mentally beseeched the man. 

“I am fine. I will heal.”  _ Finally, words!  _ Although it was not the response that he wanted. Boris mentally grimaced as he looked at the stubborn rigidness in his jaw.

“You are clearly not fine. What happened?” He all but ordered, but Valery, the fool, just shook his head and his shoulders jumped again in tenseness. Boris finally caught a look at Valery’s eyes and his heart dropped into his stomach. His eyes were so blank, both of their eyes were like that while in that irradiated pit. The exhaustion, the illness, the deaths, nobody in the whole damn city had any light in their eyes. But Boris had never seen his eyes so hollowed out and empty, as if his body was nothing but a walking corpse and his soul had long since departed. Boris shoved down the growing panic, the near primal screaming in his brain demanding that he  _ fix this, fucking fix this now. _

He slowly moved more of his hand until it was cupping the elbow of the arm still clutched around his body. Two of his fingers rubbed small circles on Valera’s inner elbow to ground him, as he  _ tried _ to create some sort of anchor to bring his Valera back to him. Valery’s flat blue eyes flickered to his face for a brief half second, rested slightly longer at where they touched before slowly drifted back toward a horrible middle distance vaguely towards the floor.

“Have you seen a doctor?” He said as he slowly edged closer, always watchful in case he spooked again. 

“No,” A sick bitter half grin, the barest up twitch of his mouth at one corner, not dissimilar to a skull’s empty rictus smile, “No doctor would have seen me. They would have taken one look at my injuries, and immediately recommended me elsewhere. Not their business, not their concern.” He unconsciously shoved his cigarette into his mouth for a deep hit and blue grey blew out away from his face with contempt.

_ Shit. Fucking Charkov. _ Oh how he would love to crush that son of a bitch’s skull in with his bare hands. Now that Boris understood what he was dealing with, a horrible sense of failure started to choke him mercilessly. 

Boris’s protective instinct for his Valera was a mile wide, cultivated when he realized how willing Valery was to give up eating, sleeping, his own health for those around him. When he realized that Valery couldn’t be trusted to look out for himself, so that Boris would have to do it for him. When he realized he couldn’t live without him.

He carefully placed his other hand on Valery’s opposite shoulder and shifted so that he was standing in front of him. He still refused to look at Boris.

“Let me see. Let me help.” That terrible half smirk immediately dropped into a frown and he slowly shook his head. He tried to take a half step back, but by this point the hand on Valery’s shoulder had moved to gently cup the back of his neck. Fear was beginning to flicker across Valery’s face like an infection. And with it came shame.

“I-- No. You don’t need-- I’m ok.” Valery was losing that frozen blankness, but panic and despair were stepping in to take its place.

When they first met, Boris did everything he asked because he realized quickly that Valery was the only one who truly understood what the  _ fuck _ was going on and how much shit they were in, but soon after it was because Boris felt a comradery with the mad scientist to try to protect everyone involved, then even quicker after that, because he liked trying to make Valery smile. 

Comrade Legasov is a solemn, frankly awkward, man at his core, and the crisis gave him very little to smile about, but the few times where Boris could coax a small grin or just a softening of his eyes always brought new life to Boris. As if there was a point to their insane situation. He knew he could never reveal this desire so instead he memorized each time it happened and folded the memories to keep close to his heart.

Here and now, Boris felt zero interest to cease that drive to care for the man.  _ Let me take care of you. Let me in, and I swear I will protect you from your pain, my dear.  _ His mind was chock full of everything he couldn’t say. It would all cross the line for what was appropriate for two men and Boris couldn’t risk losing his scientist. But at least now he knew the man well enough to have ways to get around his stubborn nature.

So, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stilled his hand on Valery’s elbow and began swirling his thumb on his neck in soothing circles. Letting the heat of his hand warm the muscles in his stiff neck, and simply held Valery’s gaze with an uncompromising look of his own. 

Valery held out for a long moment before defeat finally entered his eyes and he looked away. The shell he had built for himself seemed to harden and that blankness returned.  _ He was mentally pulling away again _ , Boris thought wretchedly.

“I-- ok. Fine, if you insist.” He mumbled robotically. The hand not holding the near done cigarette reached up jerkily and unbuttoned the first one by his throat then clenched tightly on the hem and moved no more. 

“May I?” Boris asked. He brought his hands most of the way to the next button but waited for Valery’s permission before touching. He was careful to keep his eyes away from Boris’s, clenched his jaw, then nodded.

Boris wasn’t sure what to say, so he slowly undid his buttons, his eyes never leaving Valery’s face. Those usual deep ocean blue eyes were now flat and unseeing. But Boris had an idea and began talking quietly as if just for Valery to hear despite the empty flat, “Valera, you are in your kitchen. Your cat, Sasha, is likely napping on her favorite spot on your honestly back breaking couch or making a mess of your papers simply because she can. I am here, my Valera, I am here with you.” It seemed to work as life slowly filtered back into his face and his body slowly relaxed centimeter by centimeter. He blinked once, his eyes taking on a watery shine, but he clenched his eyes tight for a moment before opening again. His focus was still directed somewhere on the floor. Now, though, he just looked sad. Painfully sad and alone, as if he was about to dissipate into ghostly mist as pale as his skin. He turned his gaze and was now looking at Boris’s chest, which he considered an improvement, and tilted forward slightly as if he wanted to rest his head on Boris but couldn’t quite convince himself to.

_ Ask anything of me, Valera, and I will give it to you gladly. Let me know that I can give you my love and it will be yours for as long as you will have it. _

As he unbuttoned Valery’s shirt he was mildly surprised to see he wasn’t wearing an undershirt. It wasn’t until he saw the large mottled blue and purple and green bruise on his upper chest and the beginning of bandages that he understood why. 

Boris bit back a sharp intake of breath as he took in the clumsily wrapped badges holding his ribs and the bruise very clearly in the shape of a shoe heel above his heart. Boris felt sick.

“Oh, Valera. Why didn’t you tell me? When did this happen?” He placed both his hands on his shoulders, hesitant to touch the angry bruises and cause his dear more pain. 

Valery clenched his eyes tight for a second before opening them again and kept his eyes somewhere below Boris’s chin. He chewed on his lips for a moment before saying weakly, barely above a whisper, “Three days ago. And I couldn’t. I--I just couldn’t.” 

Boris had never been a mild man in his life. He made his career by throwing his weight around, his passion, and by more or less bulldozing others out of his way. But he couldn’t do that here, he cared about Valera too much to do more harm. So despite the fury and hate that was boiling within him, he used every ounce of his experience of working in the Kremlin to keep his face still and body relaxed. He needed to get a grip on himself. He shifted slightly so that he could pull Valery’s collar back to take a peek at his back, and Valery, foreseeing the inevitable, dropped the last of his cigarette in the metal sink.

Distantly, almost casually, Valery said, “He said it was for what I did at the trial. I thought they were going to break my hands,” He paused then as if still somewhat surprised, “I was sure that they were going to pull the trigger.”

_ For fuck’s sake,  _ he swore. Boris’s entire body froze. He wanted to put his fist through the fucking wall. No, he wanted to put his fist through Charkov’s stupid smug fucking face.

He paused for maybe a moment or two too long before he slowly pulled the rest of Valery’s shirt off with Valery obligingly lowering his arms to assist with the sleeve removal.

“Well. I am very glad they didn’t. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He choked, what else could he say. Valery turned his head slightly to give him an assessing look that Boris wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Didn’t matter, he didn’t have time to fully think about the look when he became completely distracted by Valery’s back. He couldn’t even stop the hiss of sympathetic pain. His upper back was riddled with ruthlessly large cylinder shaped black and blue and purple bruises. The edge rippling outward into greens and yellows like a sick aurora borealis.  _ Rods. Metal rods, _ he estimated distantly. Blood was rushing in his ears and bile was rising in his throat. He felt like he was floating above his body. Valery’s skin had torn and ruptured and since scabbed over the worst of the strikes. But it was clear that due to his damaged ribs he couldn’t reach around to bandage them.  _ He was  _ alone _ in caring for them _ . Boris unconsciously brushed his fingers over the bruises with featherlight weight and felt Valery twitch slightly. He wanted to grab Valery and tuck him into himself and never let go. To drag him to bed where he can wrap him in blankets and find the best doctors to provide him the best medicinal care. He wanted to hold on to his Valera and never let him out of his sight, out of his grasp.

_ I failed him. I failed to protect him. _ The thought echoed through his head numbly. 

Valery hunched his shoulders and said with only the grim stubbornness of someone who knowingly walked out onto an irradiated wasteland, “They will heal. I will be fine.” He patted his pockets to try to light another cigarette, forgetting that he left his pack and lighter on the dining table. But Boris wasn’t listening, he stepped back in horrified awe to take a better look, still keeping a few fingers on his left hand connected to Valery’s shoulder. His eyes drifted downward when he saw  _ them _ . His hand fell away, like an idiot.

_ Oh. Oh no. No no no please no. _

“Oh, Valery.” He said brokenly as his right hand slowly matched each finger with the finger shaped bruise on his hip. Valery’s shirt fell to the floor, forgotten. Boris couldn’t breathe. He understood now. He knew what those bruises meant but he couldn’t process it. But while he was lost in his own selfish spiral of despair like a dumb bastard, Valery threw himself forward with a yell, “No, don’t!” Valery’s skinny arms once again wrapped around his body like armor, and he turned so that he was facing Boris. He started taking gasping, shuddering,  _ wheezing _ , breaths, his whole body wracked with pained uneven breaths. From here, he finally noticed the bruises on Valery’s wrists and upper arms.  _ From where he was grabbed _ , his traitorous mind informed him.

Valery’s face was pale with panic while his ears were bright red with humiliation. He was shaking as he stuttered out, his eyes glistening behind his glasses, “I’m not-- it’s not what it loo-- I didn’t want--!” On the last word his voice finally broke, he turned his face away, twisted in shame. Valery stepped back retreating into the living room where he gasped out in a tone as lonely as a broken vase at an abandoned tombstone, “Please don’t.. Comrade Shcherbina, you don’t need to stay if you so choose. Just please don’t tell anyone.  _ Please. _ ” 

This broke Boris out of his shock. Seeing his whole frail body twisted up to make himself small, to try to protect himself, the use of his formal title, all as if he didn’t trust Boris not to hurt him. Boris didn’t want to admit it but that  _ hurt terribly _ . 

_ No. No no this is wrong. _ On one of their quiet nights, Valery once tried to explain some abstract nonsense called the multiverse theory that frankly went over his head. But what he did know, is that in no universe  _ ever _ should Valery Legasov be afraid of Boris Shcherbina. 

Tears were leaking down Valery’s swollen broken face as he struggled to take gulping breaths. But he kept hitching his breath. Boris softened his body posture. He slowly approached his Valera like one would approach a petrified animal, one that could bolt or bite at any second.

“Hey, Valera, look at me. I’m not-- I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m not going to hurt you.” He said with care. He got within arm’s distance of the scientist, “Valera, I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. And I’m not going to leave.” But Valery wasn’t listening, too caught up in his own panic attack and grief.  _ Please, my love, I beg of you to trust me with this. I won’t let you down just please trust me with this.  _

Boris knew what culture they grew up in. The Soviet Union has never been kind towards homosexuals, and it wouldn’t see the victims of--his mind stuttered over the word-- of.. rape in any kinder light. Degradation and disgust would have been the most likely reaction from anyone else if they found him. And Valery didn’t know how he felt, so he couldn’t blame him for his fear. Even though it raked claws through his heart.

_ Please trust me _ .

Boris once again had his hands out beseechingly to him and said a little louder, “Valery please! Look at me!” He jerked his head up and their pained eyes met. Boris said with careful emphasis, injecting every word with all the sincerity that he had in him, “Valera, I’m not leaving you alone here. I said I would take care of you. Now please tell me what you need. When have I ever let you down?” His eyes widened in surprise and he opened and closed his mouth several times trying to find his words.

Something broken flashed across his face and his face crumpled. The desire to trust in bloody conflict with a life history of social norms, loneliness, and personal experience. Finally he said in a hoarse whisper, “Please, I don’t want to lose you. Please just don’t look at me with disgust like… like they did when they were done.”  _ Goddammit. _ Boris’s heart clenched then deciding it wasn't done, ripped itself to shreds. He felt hot tears trying to form behind his own eyes. 

Boris emphatically shook his head, “No, never. I could never do that to you. I could never hate you, not in a thousand lifetimes. Valery, listen to me when I say  _ It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. _ ” There were several long beats as Valery stood stock still, staring at him, as he slowly absorbed Boris’s words. Then it was like Valery’s strings had been cut and his whole body sagged in exhausted relief as he nodded numbly. Relief helped lighten the weight in Boris’s chest. He moved closer but left that last inch of space between Valery’s body and his hands. He wasn’t going to touch the man without his permission, not now, and he didn’t want his larger size to trigger any more distress, “Valera, can I..?” 

“Please Borja.” And with that Valery all but fell into Boris’s chest, his arms hanging limply, his head resting on his shoulder. Boris’s sturdy arms caught the frailer man easily and slowly brought him in closer, taking such sweet gentle care of his lacerations and bruises. 

“I got you. I’m here.” He whispered next to his ear. Boris had a moment of indecision, unsure if he should first take him to the bathroom to dress his injuries or let him rest.

Valery’s hands slowly reached up and gripped Boris’s shirt tightly at his sides, and he took stock of Valery’s still uneven breaths on his neck, uttering the faintest whimper every once in a while.  _ Yes, decision made _ . He carefully walked Valery to the couch where he sat on the decrepit thing and settled his Valera onto his lap. Valery’s face was tucked into the side of Boris’s throat, his right hand on his shoulder and the other on his side, both holding on with a deathgrip. One of Boris’s arms was wrapped protectively around his waist and the other holding on to the top of Valery’s legs folded on his lap.

Boris turned his head so that he could speak directly into his ear, “Believe me, my dear, when I say what happened wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t deserve any of what happened. I promise.” A slight shiver ran up Valery’s spine, and part of Boris winced internally wondering if he should regret the endearment. But at this point, he really couldn’t give less of a shit. Valery’s thin ginger hair felt like downy feathers against his cheek.

“They took  _ everything _ from me. My career, my health, my life, my  _ fucking _ body,” each phrase was said so sharply as if he was trying tear each word in half with his teeth, but then his voice turned soft and pained again, “They just take everything and I am so,  _ so _ exhausted, Borja. I’m tired. I’ve lost everything and they have left me weak, broken, and dying.” His voice was ragged and Boris likely wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t so close to his ear. Boris could hear the quiet rage in equal parts with the grief for what happened and was privately glad that Valery still had some of spirit in him.

“Hey,” He ordered, his grip tightening slightly before relaxing again, “Don’t you ever dare say that you are weak again. You are the bravest person I know. You are the only one,  _ the only one _ , who walked into that ridiculous insanity knowing what you were getting yourself into and what the consequences would very likely be. You didn’t just ignorantly stroll in like a blind dupe like the rest of us poor bastards. And you did it because you knew the work had to be done. You couldn’t be farther from weak if you asked me. And if you are broken then I am as well, and we will be two broken dying old men together.” Valery stilled at the words and the two of them were quiet for a moment before he pressed his face harder into Boris’s neck and curled his body tighter around Boris’s. His shoulders started shaking then muffled shuddering sobs escaped his chest. Wetness steadily growing on Boris’s collar.

But he didn’t mind. This was different from the terrified sobs from earlier. This was grief, and it needed to be let out, but never suffered alone.

Boris moved the arm from his waist to place a gentle hand around the back of Valery’s neck to sometimes softly scratch the short hairs at his neckline and sometimes rub circles into his skin. He pressed soft kisses into his hair and muttered quiet reassurances, not even noticing when he would slip into his native Ukrainian.

They laid like that for a long time as Valery cried. Boris turned his face to the ceiling and clenched his eyes shut tight when he felt burning tears starting to leak from the corners of his eyes. During some of the truly dark nights back at Chernobyl when the frustration, the stress, the guilt, the horror would press down his chest until he couldn’t breath, the tears ran down his face alone late at night in his hotel bed. His fist shoved against his mouth to muffle himself from the bugs. But he didn’t think he had cried in front of anyone since he was a toddler. But like in that dreadful hotel bed, he couldn’t stop these tears either.

Eventually, Valery’s tears began to subside. As he came down, Valery seemed to realize the compromising position they were in and tried to get up, an apology on his lips. But Boris, who wasn’t prepared to have the man out of his grasp let alone out of his sight, reflexively tightened his hold. Valery gave a quiet cry of distress at being held down. Immediately, Boris let him go, “Shit, I’m sorry, Valera. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Valery sat up and looked down at Boris. His gaze pierced Boris’s face as if judging his sincerity. But then his posture relaxed, and he looked away and lifted his glasses so that he could wipe the tears from his face.

Then he turned back to Boris and looked at him with calmer clearer tired eyes. He asked, his voice hoarse, “Did you mean it?”

“Every word of it.” Boris said immediately. He honestly wasn’t sure Valery was specifically referring to, but there wasn’t a single thing Boris said tonight that he hadn’t meant with absolute sincerity. Valery looked away again and chewed his lip, looking as if he was making a decision about something. 

Whatever it was, had him turning to face Boris and slowly leaning forward, his face getting closer and closer. Boris’s heart started beating faster, and he looked at him in surprise as Valery’s hand slowly gently craddled his face. His thumb moving back and forth on Boris’s cheek. Their lips were just an inch apart when Valery asked softly, “Am I wrong?” Boris could read the hope in his blue eyes.

“No.” Boris breathed and leaned forward to close that last inch. The kiss was slow, almost chaste, and it was the greatest thing Boris had ever experienced. Boris wrapped his hands around Valery’s waist, and happily let Valery control the speed. The kiss was exploratory and wonderful, the sweet union of two men who had been circling each other for months. The joyful rejection of what was thought to be two people’s unrequited love for each other. 

Valery swiped his tongue over Boris’s bottom lip, eliciting a quiet groan. Boris gently scraped his teeth against Valery’s lip in retaliation and he was rewarded with a beautiful sigh. 

They separated for breath, each panting slightly against each other’s mouths, breathing the same air. Boris nudged him slightly in the forehead with his own forehead and looked him straight in the eyes, “Can I take care of you? Will you let me?” Valery blinked owlishly for a moment before his eyes refocused. Something like hesitation flickered across his face before he hesitantly nodded.

“Ok. Can you stand? I want to clean the cuts on your back and rebandage your ribs.” Wordlessly, Valery slipped off his lap and stood up. He turned to look out the window. The streetlights outside cut his face into a sharp contrast of dark shadows and warm golden illuminated skin.

Boris took a moment to admire the beautiful man before standing up with a groan. His knees popping audibly. Valery looked back at him, his eyes turning soft, and the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fucking old. I know.” Boris complained. This made that twitch of his lip grow into a small fond smile, and Boris took Valery’s hand slipping his fingers between his.

“I was not going to say anything.” He said innocently. Boris brought their connected hands to his lips and kissed Valera’s fingers. He watched as Valery’s eyes dilated, and then because he could he stepped closer and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

Boris felt so many emotions welling up inside him. Months of yearning, of watching, of taking care of his scientist, that at this moment he was at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to even start to explain to Valera how much he felt for him. So instead he pressed one more kiss against his forehead and murmured, “Come on.”

Together they entered the tiny bathroom. The light was a harsh white that bleached out their skin and emitted a noxious buzzing noise. The light made Valery’s bruises look even more vibrant against his bone pale skin. Valery opened his mirror cabinet and pulled out another roll of bandages and antibiotic cream.

“I couldn’t-- It hurt too much to twist my arms high enough to put the cream on my back, so I haven’t done anything for the cuts I’m afraid.” He said with an embarrassed frown. Boris tsked and began unwrapping the bandages around his torso.

“You could get an infection! And I am not losing you to infection. Have you at least been icing your ribs?” He chided the other. 

“Yes, I’m not that helpless.” He scowled.

“You are never helpless. Do you want to sit on the toilet? It might be easier for me to clean your back.” He said as he dropped the used bandages in the trash and began rewrapping his ribs with the new ones.

Valery grimaced and his eyes skittered away from Boris back to the floor. His face flushed red with humiliation as he stuttered out, “N-No. I-I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Boris paused what he was doing and looked at Valery in the face and waited. 

Valery fidgeted with his fingers then gritted out, “It hurts. It hurts too much to sit on something so hard.” For what felt like the thousandth time tonight, Boris felt his heart break. He softly brushed his knuckles across Valery’s cheek, and when the touch wasn’t rejected he held Valery’s cheek and swiped his thumb across his cheekbone. Valery closed his eyes and leaned his head into the touch. 

“I’m sorry, Valera. Alright, standing then.” He said softly. Boris let go of his face and finished wrapping his ribs, “Is it too tight?”

“No.”

“Ok. Turn and face the mirror. Do you have a rag? I want to use soap and water first then I’ll use the antibiotic cream.” Valery bent down and pulled a clean hand towel from underneath the sink then grabbed another towel and wrapped it around his waist to protect his pants from the water. Boris shifted around Valery to wet the rag with warm water and moved behind Valery.

Valery leaned forward so that his arms were braced on the edge of the sink, giving Boris easy access to the expanse of his back. Valery’s back was slender, mildly muscled, and riddled with freckles. Boris wanted to map out the constellations on his back. Boris’s eyes caught their reflection and his mouth went dry. Valery shirtless and bent over in front of Boris. He couldn’t stop the warmth that pooled in his belly. He had fantasized about this who knows how many times. And in any other context,  _ any other _ , Boris would have been ecstatic. But he just had to take one look at the mottled bruises that stained Valera’s skin and the scabbed lacerations for cold reality to settle in. Here and now, he just felt sick.

Boris sighed then gently began wetting Valery’s upper back. He felt the muscles in Valery’s back twitch.

“Ok?” He asked as he rubbed the cloth in small circles over his shoulder blade.

“Yes. I am fine.” His head was tilted down towards the sink so that Boris could only see the top of head in the mirror and the exquisite length of his pale freckled neck.

The dampness of the cloth softened the scabs until they broke apart revealing the raw pink flesh underneath. Boris murmured a soft, “Sorry.” for any pain caused. He tried his best to be gentle and to tenderly wet his back, bordering on worship. He wanted to look at the bruises on his hips but knew it would only reignite the rage that wanted to howl within him.

Soon enough he put the rag back in the sink and soaped up his hands.

“I’m sorry if this stings.” But Valery just shook his head in dismissal, “Do not worry about it.” Boris could see the knotted stiff muscles in his back and knew he couldn’t prevent any pain, but he could at least do this first. Rather than immediately touch Valery’s cuts, he instead began to knead the tense muscles at the base of his neck, right where his neck met his shoulders, with his slippery hands. Valery gave a start then all but melted into Boris’s hands with a soft, “Oh.”

Boris worked his thumbs up his neck, digging into the muscles on either side of his spine, until he was pressing circles into the base of Valery’s skull. The sigh that Boris got in return was almost sinful, only reminding him that Boris has his hands on Valery’s bare skin. Something he never thought he would have the opportunity to do. He worked until he felt the knots of tension release before he worked his way back down and dug into the muscles in his shoulders. 

Watching Valery steadily grow more and more limp, but this time in pleasure rather than exhaustion brought a level of satisfaction that Boris found hard to quantify. The only parts that were bearable in Chernobyl were when he could take care of his Valera, whether it be making sure he ate or that he slept or keeping him company. And now, to be able to feel his warm skin underneath his fingers, to see Valery near drunk on pleasure--it was heavenly.

“Thank you.” His voice was so quiet and so devoid of the distress from earlier. Boris felt his heart jump into his throat.

Boris pressed a kiss on the knob in his spine and whispered back, “I’m going to start cleaning your cuts.” Valery only gave a hazy hum in acknowledgement and nodded slightly. He leaned back and oh so gently cleaned the various cuts on Valery’s back, removing the dried blood and the fabric fuzz from his shirt caught in the wounds. They were quiet as he worked with only the buzzing from the light to keep them company. The atmosphere was almost peaceful albeit solemn between them. 

He rewet the cloth and cleaned off the soap and began to dry his back. Once done he applied the antibiotic cream. Boris knew what he needed to do next, but he really did not want to. A small cowardly part of him didn’t want to know. But if Valery hadn’t seen a doctor then he doubted this injury had been treated. Boris stalled by putting band-aids and bandages on each cut, even the smallest ones that probably didn’t need one. 

Truth was, he didn’t want to see the anxiety and stress return to Valery’s posture. He was as close to relaxed as he was likely to get. But he needed to check… Boris placed a large hand at the junction of Valery’s neck and shoulder and sweeped his thumb back and forth over the knob of his spine, and hesitated. He closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh to prepare himself.

“Valery.” He said quietly, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear. Valery shifted his weight slightly and hummed.

“Valera.” He said again, his thumb still moving back and forth. Valery turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder and quirked his brow. He must have seen the reluctance in Boris’s face because Boris could feel the muscle under his hand start to tense, and he could see Valery’s frown in the mirror.

“I think I shou-- Can I, ah, check you? Lower.” He managed. He felt his face heat up and his stomach rolled uncomfortably. It took a moment for Valery to comprehend what he was asking, but once he did he went sickly pale and ducked his head, letting his hair hide his reflection. But he could see that Valery’s ears were more red than his hair. Boris felt wretched for doing this to him, but he was trying to be practical. 

“I’m not su… I don’t…” Valery stuttered.

“I’ll be gentle, Valera. I promise.”

Valery jerked his head up so that their eyes made contact in the mirror. Shame and fear were so horribly evident on his face that Boris felt sick, he pleaded, “I-- Please. I ju--I just don’t want you to hate me.”  _ Oh, my dear. _ Boris came around and gently looped one arm over his back and the other across his chest and kissed the side of his head. Boris closed his eyes and murmured above his ear, “My Valera,  _ please _ never fear. I will never hate you. I am just so sorry this happened to you, my love. Trust me to take care of you. That is all I ask.” 

“I do. I do trust you, Borja.” His head was already tilted down toward the sink, and he was once again refusing eye contact. But his voice sounded sincere, and, at this point, that is all he could hope for.

“Ok. Are you ready?” He stepped back behind him and had one hand placed on his spine at the center of his back. Valery hesitated, clearly preparing himself.

“Yes, I suppose. But can you talk? Just keep talking about anything. Please. So that I-- so that I know it’s you. Give me something to focus on.” He babbled. Boris rubbed his back reassuringly, “Of course, Valera.” And with that, Valery loosened the towel around his waist and unbelted his pants and pulled them down.

Boris began to tell an old story of when he was a young soldier. He wasn’t really listening to himself, but was pretty sure it was about the time his unit got trapped in a mud pit. A distant part of his brain thought the story was funnier when everyone, including himself, was drunk.  _ God _ , did he want a fucking drink  _ now _ . He took a deep breath then moved the towel so that it was resting over Valery’s back. 

For a second a horrible thought occurred to him that Valery may have been too hurt to clean himself off and that he was about to find  _ dried fluids  _ on his inner thighs. He took a step back and braced himself. And felt a sigh of relief when he found nothing.  _ Three days. That’s what Valery said. It happened three days ago. And he had been all alone to deal with this shit.  _ Boris felt his jaw clench with anger and guilt, at the bastards who did this and at himself for failing his Valera. 

But, then he noticed the bruises, and the scabs--where cruel hands struck him and where nails bit into his skin and Boris felt a torrent of abject fury that was as unrelenting and overwhelming as an avalanche. He had to shift his gaze to the tiled floor and count backwards from ten otherwise he knew he was going to explode. These emotions were begging to be released, and Boris had to keep telling himself,  _ Now is not the time. Later. There will be time later. _

“Borja?” Something quaked in Valery’s voice. He must have been quiet for too long or Valery caught a glance at Boris’s dark expression. With a monumental effort, Boris relaxed his face back into a neutral expression and replied back, “I’m here, Valera. I’m still here.”

Boris put the antibiotic ointment on two of his fingers and went as gently as he could. Still talking, this time about a time when one of his comrades accidentally flashed a superior officer. Neither of them were listening to his story, but it didn’t matter. He cleaned away the remaining dried blood and had to count backwards from ten, this time in French. Boris could feel Valery’s muscles twitch and flinch underneath his hands and Valery’s quiet hiss through gritted teeth. He was trying to strike the line of thorough to ensure the prevention of infection but remaining clinical, non-invasive.  _ Fucking impossible _ , he thought with bitter dispair. 

“Ok I’m done. Valera, I’m done.” Boris removed his hands and Valery immediately scrambled to the side towards the toilet. Boris tried to swallow down the squirming feelings in his stomach, and tried to distract himself by stepping to the sink and washing his hands. He tried to keep himself pressed against the sink so that he wasn’t fully blocking the door--allowing Valery an escape if he needed it. He watched Valery out of the corner of his eye. He was shaking and staring at the wall unseeing. His face was pale and sweaty, jaw locked tight. His hands were trembling and his pointer and ring on his right hand kept bending and straightening over and over as if to hold a cigarette that wasn’t there. His left clutched at the towel around his waist. 

“Valera, are you…” He wasn’t sure what to say. There really wasn’t anything  _ to _ say, “Can I…” He trailed off.  _ Fuck, have I damned myself? _ Boris had a sinking feeling in his gut as he watched Valery stare at nothing and deaf to his words. They stayed like that for much longer than Boris was comfortable with.

“Valera.” He said a little louder, try to keep the pleading out of his voice. Slowly, Valery turned his head and looked through Boris, as if it was Boris who wasn’t really present. But, finally, his eyes focused on Boris and he blinked one, twice. Like a flash, Valery reached out with his right hand and fisted Boris’s shirt on his chest and yanked himself into Boris. He shoved his face into the base of Boris’s neck and stayed there unmoving.

“Borja.” He said brokenly. Boris slowly looped one arm around his waist and his other to the center of Valery’s back, “Shh. I’m still here, my Valera. I promise, I’m still here and I’m not leaving.” Boris felt a shiver go through Valery’s body, and his breath wet and hot on his neck.

“Come, bed. Let’s rest.” He felt Valery nod more than he heard his quiet, “Ok.”

Boris walked them to Valery’s bed. It was small, but he had no intention of letting Valery get far. Boris took off his shoes and his layers until he was down to his shorts and undershirt, giving Valery the chance to settle how he liked and get comfortable. Then he climbed in after Valery, pulling the blankets with him. He scooped him in close, so that they were facing each other--nearly breathing the same air. 

“This ok?” 

“Yes.” Valery said quietly, and then almost hesitantly he cupped the side of Boris’s jaw and pressed a chaste tender kiss to his lips. His eyes flickered to Boris’s as if to confirm it was ok. Boris smiled fondly, used his hand on Valery’s waist to tug him a little closer, and kissed him back. 

Valery looked at him seriously for a long moment, but there was a genuine warmth behind his eyes that stopped Boris from worrying. Then with an earnestness that clenched Boris’s heart, Valery said, “Thank you, Borja. My Borja. Thank you for staying.” 

Boris held Valery’s face with his own hand, his thumb swiping back and forth on Valery’s cheek. Valery’s eyes fluttered closed and a small grin appeared on his face.

“My dear Valera. Know this. I love you. I have loved you since not long after I first met you. And I am yours for as long as you will have me.” Boris nudged his forehead against Valery’s forehead and watched his face carefully.

Valery’s eyes blinked open in surprise, and when he saw that Boris was serious, his entire face illuminated into a wide smile. It felt like warm sunlight after a brutally cold and dark night on Boris’s face.

“I love you too, Borja. I love you so much too.”

  
  
  


\--Fin--

  
  
  
  



End file.
